


Rainfall

by sinkingsidewalks



Category: Phandom/The Fantastic Foursome (YouTube RPF)
Genre: Fluff, M/M, That's it, and introspection, pretty much just fluff tbh
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-08-11
Updated: 2017-08-11
Packaged: 2018-12-14 05:48:59
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,088
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11776761
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sinkingsidewalks/pseuds/sinkingsidewalks
Summary: "Dan looks up through the messy mop of curls that have flopped over onto his forehead from the rain and his coat hood and the general hunch of the weather. He raises an eyebrow to ask if everything’s okay and Phil just shrugs, shakes his head with a light smile."





	Rainfall

**Author's Note:**

> Coming your way with another super uninspired title! Sorry not sorry. But anyways, it's been really cold and rainy in London lately, thus I wrote this. 
> 
> Disclaimer: I have no idea where Dan and Phil _actually_ live, I just made it up for this fic. But Southwark is pretty nice and I could imagine their weirdly shaped house being there so

_“The next station is- Charing Cross, transfer here for- Bakerloo Line and- National Rail Services. This is a- Northern Line train terminating at- Kennington.”_

The train car rattles side to side, converging the sway of bodies, and a notch of Dan’s crumpled spine presses into the hard Plexiglas of the door. The edge of his head hits the side of the carriage almost gently despite how he’s bowed his neck to fit in the space. It smells like wet, like mould and mildew and dirty rainwater. Like London in the winter. He can feel the pollution cascading down to his lungs.

The train slides to a stop, the mass of people careen forward slightly with the motion of the train as a group, a single, mindless entity shuffling through the tunnel. They’re little more than ants. Ants jammed together like sardines. 

Behind him, the door opens but no one moves around him to enter the carriage. If anything, they have to shuffle closer, to pack tighter, as the buzzer sounds and the train prepares for a moment before rushing on. 

Phil, who has the better end of the deal and is leaning against the sort of there, half seat thing at the end of the carriage beside him, grabs onto the end of Dan’s sleeve with two fingers. He tugs. 

Dan looks up through the messy mop of curls that have flopped over onto his forehead from the rain and his coat hood and the general hunch of the weather. He raises an eyebrow to ask if everything’s okay and Phil just shrugs, shakes his head with a light smile, two movements that no one else in the carriage would notice despite how close the strangers are to their personal space. 

“Two more.” Phil mouths without uttering the words. Dan wouldn’t be able to hear them anyways over the clatter.

Two more stops and then change for three more stops. Probably fifteen to twenty minutes if there aren’t any delays, though when are there not any delays? London has a way of sucking up hours of a day without ever making the passing time noticeable. 

Dan nods back to Phil, both an acknowledgement and an assurance. They’re still getting used to the location of the new place, still learning the best routes to take at the best times and how to get to and from their favourite places within the city. And how long it takes to suffer home at peak times after an endless day of meetings in Central.

The train pulls into the next station; Dan doesn’t bother listening to the announcements. The door behind him opens once again and this time he feels the crush of people pressing in on him. Phil tugs him by his wrist closer, closer than they would ever be in any other public situation, to allow more people into the carriage. 

The man who settles in the space where Dan had been as the train picks up speed is tall, but not as tall as he is. He’s an obvious business commuter, his hair is wet, but still impeccably styled and the edges of a black tie and suit peek out from under his rain coat. His whole body is drenched but he doesn’t seem bothered. He doesn’t notice the two giants he sends cowering back against the tube wall, away from the wet and the cold.

His soaking umbrella thumps against the thigh of his long sleet grey coat and scatters raindrops onto Dan. The cold soaks instantly through his now only damp jeans and sends him recoiling back into Phil. The man doesn’t acknowledge anything other than the iPhone in his hand but Phil does. 

Phil only tugs him closer, sharing a look of commiseration. The back of one of Dan’s hips presses into the unforgiving metal of the carriage wall but the other has overlapped with Phil’s. The whole left side of his body is pressed tight with the right side of Phil’s and he leeches off warmth as the train starts to slow again. 

If he wanted to, if he were brave, he could slip his hand behind Phil’s back wrapping his arm around Phil’s spine and it would look like nothing more than necessity in a crowded train. He thinks that one day soon he just might be able to actually do it, rather than just overthinking the action.

The train pulls in to the station, with a jerk and a rattle and a wobble. Phil catches his eye once again, and Dan nods back a simple assertion. He’s fine, they’re fine, everything’s fine, better than, actually. The doors open and they fall into the rush of the crowd pulling away from the train.

Phil is at his shoulder, Dan knows it without having to look for him there, as they squeeze through the crowd, shuffling through to their next line. He can hear the train they just disembarked rumbling out of the station. A violent breeze sweeps past them as they walk, ruffling through Dan’s hair and making it look even more disastrous than it already was. 

The crowd thins out as they depart away from the exits and escalators and the two move to walk side by side through the arched, barren tunnel, matching strides despite their brisk pace. 

Dan’s hand reaches out without him really thinking about it. He doesn’t take Phil’s hand as they walk but on one step he brushes the backs of their hands together then on the next he links his pinky with Phil’s. Dan just smiles, one edge of his mouth pulling up more than the other, in response to Phil’s questioning, slightly worried gaze. 

Two steps later they’ve both dropped the contact and are back to their usual physicality of close, but not touching. It’s a start though. The beginning of a task that’s harder than just not editing some stuff out, the accidental touches and lingering glances that they’ve been leaving in the gaming videos for months now. Eventually, they’ll get there in real life too.

They reach the next platform and settle in to wait the few minutes before the train arrives. Weariness has settled across Dan’s shoulders after a long day of meetings and socializing and all he wants is to be home. To be in the little piece of quiet that they have carved out of the bustle and chaos of London, he and Phil together, their home. Not their forever home, but a home that is pretty damn good for now.


End file.
